


Wings of a Butterfly

by araneae_cobalti



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (just a mention though), Emetophobia, Gen, Needles, Pale-Black Vacillation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-29 07:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3886891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araneae_cobalti/pseuds/araneae_cobalti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vriska and Equius make some bad decisions. It gets messy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which A Bad Decision Is Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you done fucked up, vriska  
> sidenote: i fucking hate formatting pesterlogs im never doing that again if i dont have to

AG: You’re not serious, are you?  
AG: Are you literally trying to tell me you’re entirely incapa8le?  
AG: You, Equius Zahhak?  
CT: D--> Vriska, please  
CT: D--> I cannot even begin to fathom why you are still so insistent on the matter  
CT: D--> I’ve told you once already that the chances of it succeeding are quite worrisome  
AG: Really? That’s your excuse?  
AG: I’ve survived an explosion that, theoretically, could have sent shrapnel str8 through my gander8ul8 and into my thinkpan.  
AG: I think I can handle a little 8it of poking.  
CT: D--> “Poking”?  
CT: D--> Surely you can’t be serious  
AG: Okay, I get your point, 8ut look what you did with my arm!  
AG: As much as I h8 to admit it, you’ve impressed me once already.  
AG: Surely you’re not to 8ig of a fuck-up to 8e a8le to do it twice.  
AG: 8esides, isn’t this your forte?  
AG: You would 8e to 8e a legend in the field of 8iological science.  
AG: C’mon, it’ll 8e a cakewalk.  
CT: D--> …  
AG: I guess I was right then, you are a huge fuckup.  
AG: Too WEAK to do something he’s 8een studying his whole damned life for.  
AG: Siiiiiiiigh.  
AG: Guess I’ll just post in a forum, see if anyone 8etter turns up.  
CT: D--> Vriska, wait  
AG: Yeeeeeeees? ::::)  
CT: D--> I’ll do it  
AG: Gr8!!!!!!!!  
CT: D--> Just don’t come complaining to me if unforeseen complications occur  
CT: D--> Well, you undoubtedly will, as you do with all your grievances  
CT: D--> And those come in great multitude  
AG: Oh, shut up! That’s entirely 8esides the point now, hoofs-for-8rains!  
AG: I’ll 8e over in a little 8it.  


arachnidsGripes [AG] ceased trolling centaursTextiles [CT]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i could get some feedback while writing the second chapter, it would be greatly appreciated! the plot is already set, but guesses would be nice tbh


	2. In Which a Bad Decision is Carried Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haha yeah gotta love the angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for mentions of vomit and needles? ya cool

If Vriska Serket had to pick something she was especially good at, just one thing, she'd most likely think about it for a good while and finally come to settle on her ability to convince someone to do something they didn't want to do. It got things done, and half the time, she didn't even have to do said things herself, which was damn near as satisfying as having convinced someone to do her dirty work in the first place. But now... For the first time that she could remember, Vriska Serket was having serious, gut-wrenching doubts. Doubts that came to be as a result of convincing her neighbor to do something that she thought she wanted. Nevertheless, though, she found herself knocking on said neighbor's door for what could, in theory, be the last time, and to be quite frank, she wasn't feeling too hot about this anymore. Honestly, she was debating leaving. Just. Running back to her hive and laughing everything off like it was some big joke from the start. All too soon, though, the door was opening, and she tensed, eyes flitting up to a familiar, somber face. He was looking at her like she was dead already and her stomach dropped, fists clenching at her sides, not wanting to look at the way his eyes were begging her to reconsider. Begging her not to take the risk.

"Don't look at me like that, I've made up my mind."  
  
He sighed. Of course she had. He opened the door wider and stepped aside, allowing her entry. She shuffled past and followed the twisting halls back to his workshop, silent as he followed exactly two paces behind, not wanting to intrude. God, she fucking hated that about him. Always the gentletroll, she sneered, shoving her hands in her pockets. It wasn't like she wasn't struggling enough with what was about to go down as it was, she didn't need his bullshit consideration. His entire fucking aura didn't help, it felt like she was going to walk into the workshop and stumble right into her own fucking casket, all of her 'friends' ready for her memorial service. Not like they'd do anything more than spit at her feet or something like that. She was so torn between wanting to burst into tears and and wanting to turn around and deck Equius right in the fucking face that she actually did stumble into something, barely catching herself before she fell. A hand on her shoulder, quickly jerked away from. Her heart hurt.  
  
The fact that she could feel his aching as well did little to help.  
  
When she finally seated herself in her usual chair - re-upholstered in her blue a sweep and a half ago, as a late wriggling day gift - she looked up at him, upper lip curling as she noted his posture. Hands behind his back, shoulders squared, feet exactly 6 inches apart. _Just give me the bad news already, doc,_ she thought, sighing. He looked like he was about to drop something heavy on her, and to be quite honest, she already knew what it would be. She didn’t have to read his mind to know exactly what was on it. The whole thing was too much to handle and she felt like she was going to be sick, right here and now. He was quiet as she ran her good hand over the arm of the chair, silence hanging as heavy as the metaphorical guillotine over her head. And then he broke it, earning no more than an irritated twitch of her eyebrow.  
  
“Do you need to be debriefed once more?”  
  
“Please, Equius, I’d rather keep my briefs on for this.”  
  
She noted (with much pleasure) the twitch of his lips.  
  
“Vriska, please do take this seriously. Surely I don’t have to remind you what exactly is at stake here.”  
  
And there was that sour tone again, the one he used when he thought she was fucking around about something serious. He really needed to get off his high hoofbeast before she actually broke something.  
  
“Look, I know you don’t think that damn highly of me, but cut me a little slack here.” She fixed him with an icy glare. “As much as you might want to believe I never consider the consequences of my actions, I’m well aware that this could be it for me. Believe me, I haven’t really been able to think of anything else.”  
  
The way his face softened just slightly made her want to scream and pull out her hair.  
  
“...Well, if you’re certain.” He paused, waiting for any sort of reply, but there was none. She was going to go through this, whether or not she thought it was a good idea anymore.  
  
“The procedure, in theory, will be quite simple. You will be tranquilized, the damaged organ will be extracted, and the new, artificial one will take its place.” He hesitated, and then spoke up again, his voice a bit quieter now, softer. “If you’re _absolutely_ sure--”  
  
She drew in a sharp breath through her nose, cutting him off. “Stop acting so fucking considerate, you know full well I have nothing to fucking lose from this. Hell, everyone will be better off if this goes horribly, and you fucking know it. So cut the shit and stop stalling.”  
  
His lips pursed again. “Very well. Make yourself comfortable. This shouldn’t take very long at all.” And with that, he was beside her, pulling on gloves and sterilizing the small patch of skin on her arm the IV drip would feed into, pushing the back of the chair down so she was prone. There was a small pinch as the needle struck home, and that was that. As promised, she found her eyes soon growing heavy, the familiar sound of him clicking the chair parts together to form a flat surface lulling her into sleep, darkness washing over her.


End file.
